


Out of Time

by ALK7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALK7/pseuds/ALK7
Summary: After an unknown object sends her back in time, Hermione must make a difficult choice. Live her life in the past or let the future play out as it once did? But it might be too late to preserve her timeline when her mere presence causes one Marauder to deviate from his original actions.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Comments: 66
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually still in shock that I'm posting this. I've read quite a few time-travel stories, all inspiring, all making me think 'what if?', and so I decided to try my hand at it. It may be rubbish but this idea has been hanging around inside my head so I had to try to do it justice. There will be slight variations made to canon besides of course, the obvious time-travel aspect of it but the world will still be recognizable.

It was the first funeral Hermione had ever cried at. Not to say that she’d never been sad or affected by the gravity of like occasions. But all the other funerals she’d attended had been for distant and elderly relatives. People she only knew in name, not in word or deed, certainly not in personality.

Albus Dumbledore had been a pillar in her magical life. Someone she’d been able to turn to for comfort, instruction, and unfailingly, a hint of entertainment. He’d impacted her life in an irreversible way, not that she would ever wish to undo it. But to suddenly be bereft of his presence? His brilliant mind and unmatched kindness?

That caused a more crippling pain than she’d ever known.

Perhaps the worst part, though, was to be reminded of the great man’s greatest shortcomings. 

When Harry had first told her and Ron about Tom Riddle and horcruxes, she’d been unnerved. How could a person be so evil? So desperate for immortality that they traded away their very humanity? It was unthinkable!

But their beloved Headmaster wasn’t completely innocent either.

It upset Hermione deeply to think about how Dumbledore had thrown all this knowledge, this responsibility on Harry’s shoulders. And yet, even then, not all the information had been relinquished to Harry at once. No, for years, he’d just been informed of the bare minimum, never truly knowing how precarious his situation was. How much in danger he was.

As good as Dumbledore was, he wasn’t perfect. _Far from it_ , Hermione reminded herself.

Now was the time for the three of them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to take things into their own hands. To learn from the mistakes of their predecessor; they would change the tide of the war and take back their world.

But first they needed to defeat Voldemort.

Which was what had led her to Dumbledore’s office following his funeral. Their sixth year at Hogwarts was over. They wouldn’t be returning for their seventh, Ron and Hermione choosing to follow Harry in his search for Voldemort’s remaining horcruxes. They needed more information though. Something that dark and evil was immensely difficult to research. A topic that most sane people shied away from.

Of course, Dumbledore was too intelligent to really be considered ‘sane’.

She glanced around the room, noting the somber feel, as if it too was mourning its owner.

_How does one find something important when they don’t know where to look? Could it be that simple?_

“Accio horcrux books!”

They flew towards her quickly and she rushed to catch them with her hands instead of feeling them hit her abdomen.

_At least one thing was easy and painless._

Hermione started to turn around when a flash of gold caught the corner of her eye and gained her attention. Something shiny was peeking through a few items in the furthest bookshelf. It gave her a vague sense of deja vu.

Figuring she had a couple more minutes before she needed to meet up with Harry and Ron, she answered the call of whatever was drawing her in, transferring the books she was holding into her beaded handbag and walking closer. There was a sort of energy that thrummed in the air the closer she got. She could hear a faint humming sound, whether it was in her mind or in her ears, she couldn’t be sure, but something about it was familiar.

Just as she reached her hand out and touched the gold object, power pulsed through her body, pushing a gasp out of her mouth. Her eyes closed at the odd sensation, a bright light flashing as she fell backwards, hitting her head on the side of the desk on her way down.

_What in Merlin’s name was that?_

The throbbing pain in her head was making it hard to concentrate on figuring out what had just happened, so, struggling as she stood up, she decided to make her way to Madam Pomfrey for assistance. Hermione didn’t even notice that the interior of the office had completely changed within the blink of an eye, a dated, more retro look to it now.

She was squinting her eyes as she traversed the familiar corridors to get to the hospital wing, unable to handle what seemed like bright lights everywhere she looked. She barely even glanced at any people she came across and definitely didn’t notice the one sharp gasp someone made at seeing her.

Clutching the side of her head as she walked into the hospital wing, she vaguely wondered when Madam Pomfrey, who was sitting next to a bed with a young boy lying in it, had had time to redecorate. His hand was cradled against his chest, as if holding a wounded animal. There were a couple other students talking quietly nearby, keeping the boy company. None of whom she recognized, yet they all wore Gryffindor robes.

_I really should’ve paid better attention to the younger years, helped them more. At the very least, I should know who my own housemates are!_

It was a testament to how out of sorts she was, that she didn’t even wonder why these students were present when the school year should’ve been over.

Hermione plopped down unceremoniously onto a cot, waiting patiently for Madam Pomfrey to finish up with the other student before requesting her help. She turned to look at Hermione as she got up and crossed over to her. There was an interesting spring to her step, as if she was a little more spry than the last time Hermione had seen her.

 _How odd that she seems to be full of energy after such a somber time_ , Hermione mused.

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey. I had a nasty spill and conked my head against a desk, possibly also on the ground. I started feeling dizzy as I was on my way here. Could you help me?”

Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly at her, “Of course dear, I’m happy to help you in any way I can. It looks like you have some blood on the side of your head, that’s the spot we’ll check first.” After a few moments, she asked Hermione, “What was your name? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, injured or visiting.”

Hermione giggled, surprised the woman was so forgetful, “It’s true that I hardly ever come for personal injuries but you know I’ve visited a few Weasleys here over the years. Speaking of them, I’ve got to meet Ron and Harry. Would it be possible to take a potion to-go with me?”

“We haven’t had a Weasley at this school for quite awhile now,” Madam Pomfrey tilted her head to the side as she answered.

“I don’t understand.” Hermione frowned. “Ron was at the castle this morning. And what about Ginny? Does that mean they’ve gone home?”

“I’m sure I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do! And I’m supposed to meet Ron Weasley and Harry Potter soon!”

Madam Pomfrey had a perplexed look for a second, before smiling pityingly at her as she answered, “My dear, it seems you’ve had a bit of an accident. Why don’t we get you checked out and then I’ll answer any question you have.”

“But what did you mean? Have they already le-”

A loud bang interrupted her question, the door flying open to reveal two boys about her age. Both had dark hair and were clothed in Gryffindor robes. Two more people she didn't know.

One rushed into the room, Madam Pomfrey jumping up to try and cut him off, while the other waited in the doorway. The first was able to dart around the medi-witch and draw closer to Hermione. His unfamiliar hazel eyes locked with hers, disbelief shining through.

“Mr. Potter, step away from my patient! How dare you burst through that door as if people aren’t receiving important medical care here! What do you have to say for yourself, James?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.

Hermione’s head whipped to face the other woman, who she now belatedly thought looked a bit different. A bit _younger_.

Had she used the name James Potter? Her best friend’s father? A man who’d been dead for more than 15 years?

This couldn’t be real, of course. _Obviously you’ve hit your head much harder than you first realized,_ she scoffed internally. There was really no other possible explanation for how she was currently looking at Harry’s long-dead father.

He hadn’t seemed to hear Madam Pomfrey at all, though, paying her no heed as he reached out a hand to brush against Hermione’s cheek.

“Hermione, you’re actually here? You’re _real_?” James whispered.

Her eyes rolled back as she promptly fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in just as many days? I'm not sure how this happened. All I know is your responses gave me the boost and excitement I needed.  
> Thank you for all of your comments! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

_Hermione is dreaming._

_She's sitting in a place she doesn't recognize. Wearing clothes she never would've bought for herself, a flowery peasant top paired with hunter green bell-bottom trousers. Who in the world would dress her like this? The kind of outfit she'd seen her mother wear in pictures before Hermione was even born. It's almost laughable how retro she must look right now._

_It's clear to her that she's dreaming, not because she is typically self-aware in dreams, but because her surroundings have a hazy film clinging to them, the details not completely clear despite her, usually, 20/20 vision. She can still tell though, as she glances around, that she's sitting in_ _a grand library. It's a setting that looks regal enough to belong to a royal family but there is a warmth in it, a sense of_ home _that indicates it is not just a throwaway room in a dusty old castle._

_A series of rich mahogany bookshelves cover the dark wood floor and line the four walls, velvet couches interspersed here and there. Spiraling staircases lead up to the secondary levels where hundreds, perhaps thousands more tomes rest. And above that is, oh, a truly remarkable sight. Hermione has never really been one for appreciating the arts. Aside from reading leisurely on occasion, she's only really entertained the scholarly side of her personality, the side that simply absorbs facts without emotion. But now, looking at the magnificent domed ceiling, covered in paintings that seem to be hundreds of years old, perhaps Renaissance-era with their religious imagery and advocacy of the beauty of the human body, she thinks she's been underappreciating the importance of creativity. There is a beauty in letting your emotions be touched, caressed even, by the work of someone else's hand. She'll no longer overlook a single painting, a work of art, ever again. Her eyes are eager and open to everything in sight, just as they had been when she'd first learned of magic._

_The sound of a door opening nearby, followed by heavy footsteps piques her interest. Someone is walking towards her._

_Panic starts to overtake her. She is in an unknown location and a stranger is getting closer. The weight of her wand clutched in her hand is what slightly calms her. Whoever is approaching will not catch her unawares. Hermione is prepared._

_She smells him before see sees him. There is a woody, aromatic scent permeating the air, invading her senses, capturing her attention like a familiar friend. Freshly mown grass, the smell of new parchment, and-_

_"I knew I'd find you in here."_

_James Potter's smiling face hits her like a punch in the gut. Hermione was prepared for anything but that._

_His hazel eyes are warm and inviting, the exact opposite of what she is currently feeling. Her reaction is unsurprising, considering she'd felt like she'd inhaled a whiff of Amortentia the moment James Potter had arrived._

_"Are you alright?"_

_She doesn't even register his question, too busy thinking up the ramifications of this dream._

_'Clearly he's attractive. Objectively speaking, of course. Anyone would be attracted to him physically, what with his tousled wavy hair and wide smile.' She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, 'His athletic body might do it for some girls but I would be much more interested in his mind and personality. Not that I am interested in any part of him. He's twenty years older than me, dead,_ and, _as if that's not enough, he's my best friend's father.' This was only a dream so she's not sure why she's getting so very flustered by him? By_ it?

_"Hermione?"_

_"Yes, sorry, I was caught up in my thoughts. What can I do for you, J-James?" She hoped he didn't notice her stutter on his name, but even though this wasn't reality, she was still aware enough to be jarred by the scenario._

_"I wanted to make myself available to escort you to dinner. Between you and me, I know it's a bit stiff and formal but it's what my parents expect."_

_"Your parents!" Hermione screeched._

_He gave her a weird look. "Yes, my parents, whose home we are currently in. Are you sure you're alright?"_

_She closed her eyes and tried to slow her rapid, almost hyperventilating breathing. Numbers sounded off in her head, 1, 2, 3..., as she tried to bring her pulse rate down by counting. His worried voice softened with each second that she kept her eyes firmly shut, until it faded out completely._

When Hermione awoke, she was back in the hospital wing, the only patient in residence. She could hear Madam Pomfrey flitting around in the distance.

'It was just a dream,' she thought as she allowed herself to relax into the pillows. Minutes later, Hermione fell back asleep.

It was darker the next time she was conscious again. She was still a bit groggy but something had woken her up, something other than her, noticeably, empty stomach. A muffled curse caught her by surprise. She struggled to keep herself as still as possible, listening carefully to the voices drifting closer to her.

"Bloody hell, Padfoot. If you can't be quiet, you should've stayed in the tower."

It felt as if her heart had stopped. That was James Potter _again_. Was this going to be a never-ending nightmare now?

"Mate, I'm just asking a simple question, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Is she why you haven’t been fawning over Evans this year? How do you even know this bird?”

Padfoot's, _Sirius Black's,_ voice was met with silence.

“I’ve never seen her before in my life,” he continued, clearly trying to get a rise out of James, "I'd have remembered such a fit, sexy-”

“Pads, shut your mouth.”

“Calm down Prongs, I’d never try to steal your girl.”

James was quieter when he answered, “She’s not mine. I’ve never met her before. I've only-" He broke off with a deep sigh.

"What is it, Prongs? James, mate, you can tell me. What's wrong?" Sirius started to sound a little worried.

Hermione was desperate to hear James' answer. Something was telling her that it would be key to her predicament. She wasn't fully convinced she was in the past. She could very well still be asleep, although it certainly didn't _feel_ like it, perhaps she was just stuck in some sort of weird dream-like reality. It wouldn't be the first time she'd encountered a lesser known branch of magic.

_It probably has to do with what you touched in Dumbledore's office, you daft girl._

"I've never met her but I do know her." James's voice was thick and deep when he finally answered, "I've been dreaming about her for months."

The sound of Sirius' sharp inhale was caught off by Hermione's, not very muffled, gasp.

Neither wizard said another word, but they shuffled around a bit as they waited for her to acknowledge them. Steeling her nerves, her eyes popped open to see James Potter and Sirius Black staring her down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! I have the next few chapters outlined so they should be coming out soon for anyone interested. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind thoughts and encouragement! I'm overwhelmed by the positive response and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story :) Also, please forgive any mistakes that you notice.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Black!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice rings out, clear and booming in the otherwise silent room. “Back to Gryffindor Tower this instant! And twenty points from the both of you for being out of your dorm past curfew!”

James and Sirius whip their heads around as soon as they hear her reprimand, winces marring their faces. Sirius starts to speak up in their defense, "We were just worried about our unfortunate schoolmate," when a warm chuckle sounds out from behind the medi-witch.

"Come now, Poppy, young Misters Potter and Black were clearly concerned for Ms. Granger. That sympathy is a fine quality to cultivate in such challenging times, my friend."

The welcome sight of Dumbledore's kind smile causes tears to instantly fill Hermione's eyes. It's in complete contrast to her last memory of him - pale, empty eyes, broken body, _dead -_ but her reaction remains the same now as it was then. 

All she can do is croak out a weak, " _Professor-"_ before she is overcome with sobs, the truth of her situation hitting her hard. James reaches out a hand towards her, the desire to help apparent on his face. His dark eyebrows are drawn together behind his glasses, the little crease between them showcasing his worry. So much like his son, like Harry, her best friend that she's been ripped apart from. 

_Ripped apart from Harry and Ron, from mum and dad, from_ home. The frown on James' face deepens as her bawling increases in volume and intensity. She must look a right mess - red cheeks, puffy eyes, snot falling from her nose to drip down on the scratchy hospital blanket. But her heart is breaking and she's grasping his hand like it's the only lifeline within reach, squeezing with all her might. The feeling of his strong hand gripping hers just as tight sends a jolt through her body, magic humming.

She can't let herself focus on that now, though, not on him or his dreams - or the one she's just had - and what they could mean. Not when a man whose funeral she's just attended is - suddenly alive, well, and looking years younger - standing right in front of her. This man, both a good friend and a brilliant wizard, has been brought back to life in her eyes. Surely he will be able to help her figure out what went wrong and how to get back home. 

When her blubbering has finally petered out, giving way to faint sniffles, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore glance curiously at her and James holding hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. Sirius just looks smug as a quiet, barely audible, "well done, Prongs," reaches her ears. Hermione rips her hand away in embarrassment, simultaneously scooting further away from James. His look of disappointment causes her to feel a little guilty before she shakes it off.

 _Simply a common human response in the face of distress. One person offering comfort and another accepting it. Nothing more, nothing less,_ she reasoned.

The two adults seem to have a silent conversation before Madam Pomfrey softly, but firmly, orders the two boys to return to their dorm and marches them out. Three heads glance back at Hermione and the Headmaster as they disappear from her line of sight. 

Dumbledore sits down next to her bed and waits patiently. For some minutes, he just lets her blow her nose and calm her breathing. Then he reaches into his robe and pulls out a handful of chocoballs to offer to her. She takes it gratefully, the sweetness of the strawberry mousse inside blending well with the bitterness of the chocolate shell.

"There is an unknown sort of magic to chocolate, isn't there, Ms. Granger? It somehow has the properties to give us happiness when the world is at its darkest. Fresh from Honeydukes, of course. I'm afraid I had an emergency to take care of in Hogsmeade that prevented my meeting you immediately, my dear. Although, it seems to me that I missed your arrival in my office by just a few moments. Tell me, what was the password you used to enter?"

She answers him without thinking, emotion still clouding her brain, "Cockroach clusters." It takes a couple seconds for her mind to catch up.

_Should I have given that answer?_

The Headmaster's short hum of acknowledgement stops her from analyzing her words too much.

"Forgive me, I just had to be sure, Hermione. I did not mean to cause any added stress. It is, I dare say, the last thing you need right now. The different password is what has confirmed what I've been suspecting since I started using your name, Hermione Granger."

Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline, before they drop into a worried furrow. "I don't understand, Professor. How do you know my name? How do you know _me?"_

"Before I answer your questions, Ms. Granger, I must ask if you are aware of how students are invited to and enrolled at Hogwarts?"

A bit confused by the inquiry, she nevertheless responds, "Yes, Professor McGonagall consults a list - written up by a special, ancient quill, that's filled with the names of those born with magical abilities - annually and sends out a letter to the children on it who are or will be turning 11 before that year's September." Admitting sheepishly, she adds, "I was quite intrigued by that bit of magic when I first learned of it." It's a reflex - falling back into reciting well-known facts - and a welcome reminder that although everything else changing, she is still the same.

"Absolutely correct. Since that falls under Minerva's responsibility, I've never needed to study it before today. This morning, I was working on a special project for an old friend when I had to rush to Hogsmeade. There was an emergency, resolved now, but demanding of my time then. When I returned to my office, however, it looked as if someone had had an accident inside. A perplexing situation, if I'm to be honest, as I'd not had a chance yet to alert anyone of my password changing last night." He stopped there, seeming to weigh his words before continuing. "On a whim, I decided to peruse this list of magical children. That's when I saw that _two_ Hermione Grangers were named, both born in September 1979, and yet, one was listed as being currently enrolled." 

To say she was astounded was an understatement.

"You're from the future, Ms. Granger. Sometime between 15 and 20 years ahead, if I were to hazard a guess."

Of course. _Of course._

She shouldn't be surprised. The brilliance of this man is unparalleled. And she should know, what with being the brightest witch of her age. She still doesn't hold a candle to his intelligence and ability.

 _Trust Dumbledore to work out her situation with a simple feeling and a coincidence._ It was good news that she wouldn't have to work out her predicament alone.

"It was the summer of 1997. I just finished my sixth year," she answers. _And what a horrible end it was. You died. We just had your funeral, we are_ mourning _you. Or we were, we will. I don't know anymore._

"Today is February 27, 1977," he relates, "so you've somehow travelled back a little more than twenty years into the past."

He says it so succinctly, so matter of fact, that she can't help but smile. Yes, twenty years in the past and delivered to him. Right to the man who can get her back home.

"It's a relief that you know, sir. Can you help me? I need to," her voice breaks before she can reign her emotions back under control, "I need to go back home. Do you know how I can get back to my time?"

Dumbledore has a gentle smile, reaching out to pat the top of her hand. She shivers somewhat at the iciness of his touch, vaguely registering the difference in temperature compared to James'.

"I will be happy to help, child. We must find a place for you to stay while we try to piece together what sent you back here. Rest for now and tomorrow morning we will have you sorted."

\---------

Just outside the Great Hall the next day, while she's waiting for Dumbledore to announce her arrival to the other students, Hermione is bouncing on the balls of her feet in nervousness.

 _She'd asked him the night before why she needed to be sorted at all, why she couldn't stay somewhere else entirely. Although the castle was her_ home, _it was completely different from what she knew because none of her friends were there. She'd have to pretend that she had no history here, that she knew nothing about the hidden passageways, the hanging paintings, the entrances to the other common rooms, the troublesome characters haunting the halls._

_'We can't be sure how long it will take to research what has happened. For your protection, it's best that you remain here as a student, preferably a sixth year, if you don't mind repeating the last few months of school. It might be difficult for you to catch up if you skipped half of your seventh year,' he'd said._

So now here she was. Being sorted for a second time. 

What if she didn't end up in Gryffindor? Or what if she _did?_

She'd be stuck with Sirius and Remus. People she _knew_ who wouldn't know her.

Peter Pettigrew. A sneer forms on her face with that thought.

_Evil little rat. I'll have to watch his back-stabbing face suck up to-_

Oh no. _No._

Her heart sunk despondently. 

_He'll be hanging around_ James _and oh Merlin,_ Lily. 

What was she going to do with that information? Without even considering what had happened between her and James in the hospital wing, how was she supposed to live with knowing that the person responsible for their deaths - _Harry's parents' deaths -_ was currently cozying up to one or both of them? Would she even be around long enough to do something? Should she even be considering altering the timeline, knowing the possible risks involved?

 _You have time to think, Hermione. You have Dumbledore and you have_ time. _Stay calm for now._

"Without further ado, trusting you all will show kindness and helpfulness, I'd like you all to welcome our newest student, Hermione Dagworth-Granger"

She had to chuckle lightly at that, as she walks to the Sorting Hat poised on the old stool. It was a good cover - the use of her actual first and last name is necessary, considering at least two students already know them. But the added 'Dagworth' reminds her of Professor Slughorn's desire to make connections with another famous name. The 'Dagworth' also provides another layer of protection and validity. People won't question her absence from school all these years with that well-known name, thinking her family both eccentric and intellectual enough to have been educating her at home. 

Just as she settles on the stool - right before she tucks the hat on her head - she glances at a boy sitting on the Gryffindor table. His hazel eyes crinkle at the corners when he offers her a small smile. That's the last thing she sees because, within the next second, the darkness of the Sorting Hat envelops her vision.

_'Oh, you're quite an interesting one, aren't you? Perhaps the most interesting head I've searched through in a long while. There was that one witch a few centuries ago-'_

_'Please,'_ she begs, ' _I have to be in Gryffindor. I don't know how to be anywhere else.'_

_'That's not true. I can see you have traits of all four houses. You'd do fine in any one. Ambitious, loyal, intelligent, brave, yes, you'd do well anywhere.'_

_"But I wouldn't be happy,'_ she appeals, in hopes that the hat also takes into consideration a person's emotional attachments, _'Gryffindor is my home.'_

_"Yes, yes I see now. You do belong there. There is a bond there, stronger than even time. Better be-'_

"Gryffindor!"

Her legs are shaky as she slides off the seat. She didn't realize how nervous she was about ending up in a different house until she'd put the blasted hat on.

The applause from the table of lions is deafening, whoops and hollers filling her ears. She thinks she sees some of the older years passing galleons around, probably bets on which house she'd join. 

Dumbledore addresses her before she can walk to their table. "Hermione, I've asked a fellow sixth year to accompany you, address your questions, and introduce you to your schoolmates. She's also in Gryffindor and will help you in any way she can." His voice drops, "But it may be best to keep your time-travelling secret. I'm sure you know of the turbulent times we are living in. Others knowing of your past, and ironically, the future, would put a target on your back."

"Yes, Professor, I understand. I wasn't planning on speaking of this with anyone but you."

"Excellent. Ah, here comes your housemate now. I'm sure the two of you will get along well." 

Her heart gives a painful thump when she sees the Prefect girl walking up to her.

_A girl with red hair._

Of course Hermione knows, objectively, who the girl is as she gets closer. But it's still a shock to look into such familiar bright, green eyes - eyes she's looked into for years, eyes of a friend - and see a stranger.

 _Harry,_ she calls out mournfully. The depth of emotions conveyed in those eyes - happiness, sadness, worry, excitement - it has always been, to her, his most endearing physical trait. It's the only thing right now that really reminds her of him. Everything else - too wide smile, full, rosy cheeks, sleek and shiny hair - is all wrong. Even the small, pale hand reaching out to her in greeting is unknown.

They all belong solely to his mother. 

"Hi, my name is Lily Evans."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support and lovely words! Again please forgive any mistakes I may have missed. I hope you enjoy Chapter 4!! :)

The first time Hermione ever sat at the Gryffindor table, she’d been eleven, almost twelve, years old. Older students had greeted her, slapping her on the back and calling out their names, though it would be a good while before she’d remember them all. She’d been welcomed by a good chunk of Weasleys - Fred, George, and Percy - and soon surrounded by the rest of the newly-sorted first year students. In that moment, all the nervous energy had washed out of her. She’d felt a sense of  _ belonging _ ; her mind and body cleansed of the fear she’d once had, instead replaced with comfort, with  _ happiness. _ After years of wondering why she felt so very distant from her schoolmates, and occasionally from her own parents, it was clear that she’d finally found the place where she was meant to be.

As she approaches the same table for the first time in 1977 - Lily Evans close by her side, rattling off facts about Hogwarts (“ _ the ceiling is charmed, of course. I can lend you my copy of Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot, very newly released, if you’d be interested. _ ”; it’s amusing to think how similar she and Lily seemingly are) that Hermione has had memorized for years, or  _ will  _ have memorized years  _ from  _ now - she’s taken aback by the contrast between then and now. 

_ ‘Would now be considered then or would my own time be then since it happened in my past?’,  _ she muses.

Simply stated, it’s all just a bit mind-boggling. Using the time-turner in her third-year had not prepared her for - does not even come close to the sheer  _ madness  _ of  _ \-  _ what she is currently dealing with.

She still feels the right-ness of coming  _ home  _ but the feeling is largely amplified. The power in her veins is thrumming with an energy unlike anything she’s ever experienced; the very  _ magic  _ in her is  _ singing.  _ It seems to get stronger and stronger, reaching a peak as she sits down next to James Potter, Lily on her opposite side. She is stuck between Harry’s parents. 

It should go without saying that she wouldn’t have  _ chosen  _ to sit next to him. She’s too scared, too worried really, to attempt to interact with him. For all that she’s aware of at the moment, - his, apparently, multiple dreams about her over a span of  _ months,  _ her own confusing one last night, and the weird, slightly nauseating realization that she may be physically attracted to Harry’s  _ father  _ (why else would she be feeling such odd sensations around him?) - she’s not actually spoken to him yet. 

Despite that fact, she can’t help but notice James Potter’s popularity among his peers, at least among the Gryffindors, as indicated by his ability to rearrange where everyone else is sitting so that the only empty space is to the right of him.

_ ‘Prat _ ,’ she thinks, without a hint of any real malice. She also notices how Lily has not acknowledged James at all, even though they are, technically, just about a metre apart. 

_ ‘Blimey, of course I have to deal with that as well. They’re not even on speaking terms.’ _

“ _ Hermione _ Dagworth- _ Granger, _ ” James drawls, ignoring Lily’s obvious snub, “lovely to finally meet you.” The emphasis he puts on her own first and last name makes it clear that he knows just how recent of an addition the ‘Dagworth’ is. 

_ ‘Just how revealing were those dreams of his?’ _

She’s unsure if she wants to know the answer to that question. A lot can happen in dreams and, with how they seem to be centered on her, she’s not brave enough to question him. Not around a group of people she doesn’t know. But especially not around a group of people she  _ will  _ know eventually. A group that seems to be staring at her, James, and Lily with a sense of awe and wonder.

“Thank you,” Hermione answers, choosing to act things out as if she really is meeting him for the first time. As if she does not know exactly who he is. “And you are?”   
  


“He’s James Potter, love,” another person speaks up before James can answer. She looks across the table for the source of the voice and sees Sirius beaming at her. “And I’m Sirius Black. That’s Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, “ he introduces while pointing to each boy. A young Profess- a young  _ Remus  _ Lupin smiles shyly at her before ducking his head back down, light brown hair obscuring his face from that angle. She barely gets herself to make eye contact with Peter Pettigrew. An attempt to smile politely at him is made but probably looks more like a grimace. “And may I just say, you  are a breath of fresh air. A _very_ welcome addition to our house of lions.” 

She’s not sure if she should be offended or flattered by the obvious admiration in his eyes as they trail down from her face to her body. Although it does solve one issue she’s been mulling over.

_ ‘I may not have been very close to Sirius before his death,’  _ she thinks sadly, remembering Harry’s immense pain at the loss of his godfather,  _ ‘but there is absolutely no way he would’ve been able to acknowledge my presence in the 90s, if he had known who I was and how he flirted with me.’  _ She snickers a little internally when she imagines the horror he would’ve felt if he’d recognized her at 14 years old.

“Bugger off, Black- “ Lily is quick to admonish him, but not as quick as James, whose simple, “Pads,” is enough to sober up the expression on Sirius’ face. The two share a look before Sirius directs a small, almost apologetic smile at James, shrugging his shoulders slightly. It’s interesting to see the dynamics of their relationship; wonderful to see how relaxed and  _ happy  _ this Sirius is. 

_ ‘With everything that’s happened with his family, these are probably the happiest moments of his life. In less than 5 years, one best friend will be dead, another a traitor, and he will be stuck in Azkaban, wasting away.’ _

Guilt claws up her throat for not being more supportive of his relationship with Harry, but instead judging him on all his shortcomings. He’d done his best in an impossible situation. Perhaps the guilty feelings are what pushes her to speak up, extending him an olive branch, in a way, to relieve the awkward atmosphere.

“Thank you, Sirius. I’m very happy to be here. I’ve heard stories about Hogwarts and its houses and I’d always hoped to be a Gryffindor.”

Remus peeks up at her. “Was the hat thinking of putting you elsewhere? It seemed to be deliberating longer than usual.”

“Ravenclaw,” she volunteers, electing to speak of her first hat experience rather than this more recent one, “Unsurprising since I’ve been referred to as a bit of a swot, if I’m honest.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter chortle loudly at that but it’s James’ warm breath on her ear that catches - and holds - her attention.

“You don’t strike me as a swot at all. I think there’s a troublemaker inside you, trying to break free.”

“Don’t you dare, James Potter!” 

_ ‘Is that how I sound when I scold Harry and Ron? No wonder they never want to listen to me. I’ve probably caused permanent ear damage, just like Lily’s done to me.’ _

Lily is still scolding James, “You better not pull her into your band of miscreants’ mischief-making! Hermione, why don’t I show you around a bit before classes start for the day?”

“Oh, but I-” she tries to get Lily’s attention to tell her she hasn’t had anything to eat yet, but Lily has already gotten up and started walking away from the table. Hermione flushes when she realizes she must address the Marauders before she follows after Harry’s mother, lest she appear rude.

“Sorry, I should go with her.” 

James’ hand grabbing her wrist stops her from taking a step away. “Take this with you, in case you get hungry during your tour.” The wink he sends her way combined with the kindness shown as he thrusts a warm roll into her hand, causes the redness of her skin to deepen even more.

“Thank you. It was lovely to have met you all.” She offers a tiny smile and turns quickly, rushing after Lily. Hermione catches up with her just outside the Great Hall.

  
  


“I’m sorry, Hermione. I shouldn’t have rushed you. It’s just that that blasted James Potter gets under my skin in the worst way. He and his friends are juvenile and cruel; they’ve been menaces for years.”

Hermione is taken aback by the genuine anger in Lily’s voice. She can’t understand how Lily and James will get from this point to dating next school year and getting married shortly after they finish at Hogwarts.

_ ‘Perhaps I can do some good here in that respect without disrupting much. I’ll simply pave the way for James to get on her good side.’ _

“I’m not sure what they were like when they were younger, Lily,” she starts off, “but I think they may have changed just a bit. I ran into James and Sirius, informally, when I first arrived and they saw that I was quite distraught - missing home, not feeling well - so they accompanied me to the hospital wing.” If she’s slightly fibbing, there’s no one present who can call her out on it. 

_ ‘More like, I was bloody exhausted and injured after travelling back 20 years and they just so happened to find me after I escorted myself to the infirmary.’  _

Lily seems surprised for a second, then shrugs it off, sticking to her guns, “I suppose even brutes like them can show common decency once in a great long while. But I,” she sighs, searching for the right words, “I lost a very good friend, we don’t even talk anymore, because of their antics and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

The care in her words melts Hermione’s heart. It’s so like  _ Harry; _ inherently kind and tender. It’s only a second later when she realizes that Lily is referring to  _ Snape  _ and the warm feelings in her evaporate.

_ ‘Oh Godric, what a bumbling idiot I’ve been! I’ll come across Dumbledore’s  _ murderer  _ some time soon. What am I supposed to do?',  _ She takes a deep breath, calming herself before she addresses Lily. It would do no good to allow her to see the turmoil plaguing Hermione.

“Thank you for looking out for me, Lily. I’m lucky Dumbledore assigned you to help me.” 

She’ll definitely have to speak with him later today. As dangerous as it is to fool around with time, he is needed to defeat Voldemort and frankly, his life is worth the risk.

_ “I’ll not give Snape a chance to betray him again.’ _

Lily beams, her eyes shining with life and joy, “I hope we’ll be great friends, Hermione. I sense a kindred spirit in you. I think you were always meant to be here.” 

“Yes,” Hermione responds, staring into that familiar shade of green again, “I do too.”

\--------------------------------

  
  


After a grand tour with Lily - during which she's been kept away from any more encounters with James' and his friends, attended all of Lily’s classes because, obviously, they would be in the same courses (how Dumbledore could predict which subjects she’d be interested in, she’ll never know. Luckily she’ll not have to worry too hard about studying because she has already finished her sixth year and she’s not exactly planning on staying in the past permanently. Not that she’ll slack off, she’s still  _ Hermione Granger,  _ after all.), been shown her room, introduced to her other new dorm-mates (Mary McDonald and Marlene McKinnon, both similar to Parvati and Lavender respectively), Hermione has begged a respite, claiming a desire to spend some time unwinding in the library on her own for a bit. It’s been a very long day and Lily seems to sympathize, letting her go off. 

What Lily does  _ not  _ need to know is that Hermione isn’t going to the library. She’s heading to the Headmaster’s office. And what  _ Hermione  _ is unaware of is that an invisible boy is following her, out the Gryffindor common room and into the hallway. 

Or rather, Hermione  _ was  _ unaware of him for about 10 seconds, until her magic started  _ sensing  _ him drawing ever closer. She’s letting James follow her now, wanting this seemingly unavoidable confrontation to be done on  _ her  _ terms. She can’t risk him following her to Dumbledore’s office and hearing anything that he doesn’t already know about her, so she’s leading him to a place where they can speak privately. 

Hermione can practically feel his confusion through the invisible cloak and she struggles to hold her lips in a straight line as she walks past an ordinary-looking wall once, twice, and a third time.

_ ‘I need a place where James Potter and I can speak alone without being disturbed.'  _ She tacks on a  _ ‘please’  _ for good measure.

When the door to the Room of Requirement appears, she takes her time walking in and slowly shuts it, waiting for that tell-tale breeze to brush against her, making sure that he’s entered as well. She turns around and gazes into nothingness, trying to look directly at his eyes, unable to resist unnerving him just a little.

“We have so much to discuss, James Potter.”

Long seconds pass and she actually starts to wonder if she imagined his presence before he finally lets the cloak slide off of him, a sheepish grin on his face.

“How’d you know I was here? Where is 'here' and why does it look exactly like our Common Room?”

She smiles, “Not my first experience with an invisibility cloak. I’m sure it’s rare, what with how impressive a feat of magic it is, but I have a friend who inherited something just like it.”  _ Exactly  _ like it. She walks around him, towards the soft gold and red couch, grateful that there is at least one comfortable thing in this scenario. “As for your second question, I was told that there’s a special place which appears when and how you need it.”

James looks intrigued by her statement, plopping down next to her. “You’re saying you needed a place to be alone with me? And who told you that?”

“I thought it would be a conducive environment for the conversation we needed to have. I heard you in the hospital wing when you were talking to Sirius.” She hopes that distracts him from noticing that she’s ignored his other enquiry.

He stares silently at her so long that she’s just about to demand he leave -  _ bugger  _ the questions she’s dying to ask him - when he finally speaks up.

“Sorry I’ve just- “ His gaze is unwavering, locked on her, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, to meet you. It's surreal to be in this moment.” 

“Yes, well,” Hermione shifts in her seat, trying to avoid his eyes, “I know you mentioned that you’ve been having some… dreams? About me?” She wants to  _ die  _ from how awkward she’s feeling. 

“About you, yes,” James smirks, unashamed and finding humor in her own shame, “almost every night for months.”

“But  _ why _ ? How did it start? What’s happened in them?” Now that the flow of questions has started, she can’t seem to stop them. 

_ ‘Why here and now? Are you the reason I’m here? Why  _ you _?’ _

His face becomes serious when he hears the plea in her voice. “I don’t know exactly why,” he says carefully, “I just know that, one night last summer, I had my first dream of you. I thought I was imagining you. Until I saw you yesterday.”

_‘So he doesn’t know much more than I do, after all. We’ll-_ I’ll _have to speak to Dumbledore to try to understand this. It might have some bearing on how I ended up here. Perhaps James is a Seer? Although I’ve never heard anyone in my time refer to him as such. And even then, why would_ I _dream of him too?’’_

“You seemed to know me also. Have you been having dreams as well?” His teasing grin only grows when he sees the embarrassed look on her face. “You have!” James’ glee is almost contagious. Almost. Her mortification is much too strong to be overcome. 

“No need to be sheepish, Hermione. We are in the same boat after all,” he points his hand in her direction and then back at himself, “dreaming about strangers. Although, we’re not strangers anymore, are we? I, for one, am quite happy to know I’ve been on the mind of a beautiful young witch, such as yourself.” He winks at her saucily.

_ ‘Bloody  _ hell,  _ James Potter is  _ flirting  _ with me. First Sirius, now Harry’s father?'  _ She refuses to acknowledge the little shiver that shoots down her spine at his words. The last thing she needs is for her body and magic to do things she doesn’t approve of.

Ignoring his playful and somewhat scandalous manner - considering she knows he’ll be a husband  _ and  _ father within about 3 years - she stands up to take her leave. 

“It was actually only one dream on my end,” she clarifies, “last night. It must’ve been because I saw you before I fell unconscious. It probably doesn’t mean anything-”

“I know you don’t believe that,” he cuts her off. “Otherwise why would you have dragged me all the way here to talk about it?”

“There was no dragging!  _ You  _ followed  _ me _ , you prat!”

“That’s because I wanted to talk about it too. I was hoping to get you alone,” he says, a cheeky grin painting his features. “I just didn’t realize you felt the same, as evidenced by this very cozy-looking room you’ve conjured for us.” She can’t believe the absolute  _ nerve  _ he has.

“As entertaining as this has been,” she rolls her eyes as she responds, “I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore. So I’ll be off.”

“You’re going to run your actual theories by him, aren’t you?”

Hermione rolls her eyes again. She’s going to give herself a headache if she keeps that up. “There’s nothing to theorize about, James. Believe it or not, dreams don’t have to mean something.” At least, she hopes not.

“Well since you don’t have any pressing  _ dream-related  _ theories to think up with Ol’ Albus, then this won’t bother you but, Dumbledore? He’s taken an indefinite leave of absence. The Professors aren’t sure when he’ll be returning.”

_ ‘Bloody hell.’ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to post this chapter sooner but editing was delayed by another Jamione fic idea taking over. Yes, I now have two Jamione WIPs. I'm not sure why I challenged myself like this. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter - I think it's my favorite so far - and please let me know what you think if you have the time. :)

“That’s the benefit of non-verbal spells, you see. The other person has no forewarning of what kind of magic you’re about to use, giving you a split second advantage. Of course there can be a disadvantage too, as you can lose the power of your spell when it isn’t verbally stated.”

Hermione hummed in agreement at Remus’ explanation.

It was a bit odd to her, not being the person lecturing and clarifying what was being studied, but instead sitting quietly as someone else talked at her. She didn’t mind; it was nice to see her future Professor’s passion and articulation at work. 

What she did mind though, was that for three evenings straight the Marauders had “found” her in the library and commandeered her attention.

Sirius scoffed at Remus, while James simply rolled his eyes at them and Pettigrew snickered quietly. “Moony, you’re not our bloody Professor. You don’t have to explain the merits of non-verbal spells to us. What I want to know is how Hermione here has seemed to master non-verbal duelling when she’s only been homeschooled. Did your parents really let you practice on them? Or do you have some siblings you don’t like?”

This was the other thing that bothered her. 

Before he’d pulled a disappearing act on her, she’d gathered that Dumbledore had not only lied about her familial relations - or perhaps not, maybe she really was distantly related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, _which surely impressed Slughorn_ \- and where she’d come from - some country home where her family had _insisted_ on homeschooling her until deciding to suddenly send her to Hogwarts - but also her grades - she was still unsure of her feelings on that front, her professors in 1977 all praising her for her Outstanding marks in their respective subjects, most notably in DADA - which overwhelmed her already quite frazzled feelings. Although, she did feel with regard to that class that perhaps with a better professor than that vile woman in fifth year, she’d have been able to achieve an O.

Besides those things, Hermione wasn’t sure what else Dumbledore had revealed about her or how she was supposed to act. She reasoned that it was better to lay low and not draw undue attention to herself. 

That was easier said than done. 

Especially now when people wanted to know more about her background. She settled on giving Sirius a vague truth that would hopefully sate his curiosity. 

“Actually, my mother isn’t a witch and I don’t have any siblings. I do have some cousins that I don’t get along with.” True, her mother wasn’t a witch but neither was her father a wizard. And her distant cousins were muggles who didn’t like her because she was boring and weird.

She wasn’t lying to Sirius, she was only omitting the full truth in hopes that he wouldn’t continue asking her personal questions that she wasn’t sure how to answer. Surely if anyone understood the tension of bad familial relations, it would be Sirius Black.

“So you’re a halfblood?” Peter’s eyes broke away from contact with her own hard ones. 

“Does it matter?” She barely manages not to spit out her words. 

It was such a hardship to behave amiably with this boy. When she looked into his eyes, all she could see was the shriveled little coward begging for mercy from his former friends in the Shrieking Shack. Mercy that he didn’t deserve.

“N-no,” he stumbled on his words. “Of course not, I was only wondering.”

She swallows back a retort and turns toward the three other young men - just missing a look that they exchange with each other - intending to take her leave. But James speaks up first. 

“Sirius, weren’t you and Pete supposed to meet those two Hufflepuffs?”

“Yes, as wonderful as your company is, little lioness,” he says, addressing Hermione, “we have other plans that we must get to. Beautiful ladies can’t be kept waiting.” They’re up out of their seats and gone before she can say anything. Then Remus stands to rush out too, throwing a quick, “I’m gonna rest a bit before patrol, see you two later” as he leaves. 

Leaving her alone with James. Which shouldn’t be a problem.

But it definitely is. Or _he_ is. 

Even though it’s only been a few days since Dumbledore’s disappearance - ironic, really. She’d left a time when he was permanently gone, but desperately needed, only to show up in another time when his departure was again at an inopportune moment - Hermione had been diligently observing both James and Lily. And this is what she had noticed thus far.

Lily was her shadow during the school days, escorting her to class, answering any questions Hermione posed - questions that she already knew the answers to, but she felt it important to play to Lily’s expectations and she was expecting someone who had no experience with life at Hogwarts - and seemed to thrive on being the sole contributor to any and all professor-initiated discussions. She was a complete contrast to James who was content doing his work only when a professor was watching and messing around with Sirius and Peter - not Remus, who was just as, if not _more,_ studious as Hermione, only a bit quieter about it - when left to his own devices. 

It was hard to think of them as Harry’s parents when they were currently her age, a bit younger even. And then there were their actual encounters with each other to consider. If they could even be considered as such.

She’d been prepared - as prepared as one can be in a situation like hers - to deal with love-struck gestures on James’ end and maybe, exasperated but - slowly becoming more and more - affectionate looks from Lily. 

That was not the case.

First, there was Lily. Who - while being kind to most everyone she came across and helping Hermione adjust to a new environment, or what she thought was new - radiated a feeling of deep dislike towards the Marauders as a whole, but for James especially. 

She’d not directly acknowledged him since Hermione’s first breakfast at Hogwarts but she glared at him whenever he plopped down at the table during meal times, or when he walked into the different classrooms, when he laughed with his friends and when he ruffled his disheveled hair. Every little move James made seemed to upset Lily, as if his very existence was offensive to her.

And then there was James, who didn’t seem very much aware of Lily outside of a casual indifference that one would show to someone they were barely acquainted with. Apparently this behavior was quite at odds with how he’d treated Lily in the years prior. There were no longer any formal declarations of love in the Great Hall, no attempts to partner up with her in their shared NEWT-level classes - which surprised her, despite his troublesome ways and penchant for small pranks here and there, he was very smart. She wondered if he was smart enough to play the long game with Lily. Or if he was playing hard to get. 

If so, although unlikely, it didn’t seem to be working. But who was she to judge when it came to courting and romance? She wasn’t exactly the leading expert in those areas. 

And yet, she seemed to be getting a lot of male attention now, in this time. 

Specifically from that very same James. 

Who is bloody _everywhere._

He strives to sit next to her in the Great Hall, in classes, constantly engages her in conversation - “lovely morning, huh Hermione?”, “fancy joining the lads and I to prank Filch tonight?”, “what’s your favorite color, Hermione? I love a rich, warm mocha that’s oh! Similar to your eyes, how about that?” - and just always seems to be in her general vicinity. The only place she doesn’t see him nearby is her dorm room and even then, Marlene and Mary have lots to say, or rather, _imply_ about him, while Lily - his future _wife_ \- remains noticeably quiet. 

It’s a bit awkward for Hermione, to say the least.

She’s not dense, she knows that he and his friends are using their map to find her each evening. There’s no way James Potter and company typically spend their nights in the _library_ \- the place where she’s been taking refuge, in an effort to avoid forging relationships with people - so they, _he_ must have an ulterior motive. It might be better for her to retreat to the Room of Requirement to avoid this quality time with them. And yet, she’s curious to see how prolonged exposure to him affects her magic.

It’s not that she can’t function without him nearby, her magic working as well as it always has. It’s more of a _yearning_ that she feels. Like the sound of her bed calling her to sleep after a long exhausting day or the desire for fresh, warm milk on a cold winter night. She doesn’t have to surrender to it’s beckoning but the temptation is still there, waiting for her to succumb. 

She suspects that he feels the same _thrumming_ in his own magic around her that she does with him, can see it in the way he sometimes leans into her or the way he is aware of her the instant she enters a room. But he hasn’t said anything about it.

He also hasn’t brought up their dreams since their one-on-one talk the other night - the last time they were alone before she ran off to check the legitimacy of his claim about Dumbledore’s departure - seeming to accept her vehemence that they are only coincidence. 

A clarification is needed: he hasn’t brought them up again until tonight. Hermione is struck dumb when he inquires, “I’ve been wondering: What was your dream about? The one you mentioned.”

She struggles to maintain her composure. _“This is what you get for not hexing him to keep him from following you around.’_

“I don’t really remember,” she lies.

“Liar. I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours. I’m sure you’ve had multiple dreams featuring yours truly by now,” he grins. 

Hermione has had more - each night since the first one - and the nature of them have only served to confuse her more. She’s already struggling to reconcile this boy with Harry’s father but the damn dreams just make it worse.

Scoffing, she tells him, “That’s ridiculous. How about you answer one of my questions first?” 

“Go ahead. I’m an open book, especially for you.” Behind his glasses, his eyes crinkle and gleam with mischief, a true troublemaker at heart.

He’s so direct with his attention and she doesn’t know if she should be offended or in awe of him. Part of her thinks he might like her. That he might have a _crush_ on her. 

_‘Merlin, if that isn’t a weird sentiment.’_

But the other part of her isn’t sure if it’s not all just his personality, a bit of friendly fun. Despite growing up with two boys as her best friends, she still doesn’t really understand the male population. It’s as if they’re their own species and James Potter is the rarest one of them all.

She stays silent, staring at him as she contemplates what to ask. She settles on, “Why don’t you and Lily get along?”

What she really wants to say is, _‘Why does Lily despise you and why aren’t you trying to change her mind?’_

James looks surprised by the question but he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hermione,” he says seriously. She likes this look on him. “I don’t mind Lily. Whatever negative feelings exist, they’re all on her end. Not without reason, mind you, I was a horrible berk to her for years. I was hoping I’d get to show you I was mature and trustworthy before you found out about my past but,” he sighs regretfully and clicks his tongue, “maybe it’s best to get it all out in the open as soon as possible.”

Another sigh before he looks up in question, wondering if she wants to hear his story. She silently signals for him to continue.

“I’m an only child. We have that in common, you and I. My parents are older, even by wizarding standards and they tried for so long to have children that when I finally came around, they spoiled me. Rotten. I’m self-aware enough to realize that. I’m used to getting what I want, being put above everyone and everything else.

“When I came to Hogwarts, there were so many other people, students who were smarter and better than me. It was the first time in my life I remember feeling jealous. Sure, I made friends and I love them, I do. They’re the best friends a bloke could ask for. But at 11 years old, I was envious of everyone who got the attention I desired. One boy especially seemed to hold all the professors’ admiration, which was irritating but survivable. Until I had my first crush and she only noticed him too.”

“Lily.” She states. It’s not a question.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, bad things to her friend over the years, that I’m sure I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But it all seems so stupid now, juvenile. There are more important things happening right now. People being attacked, dying, even Sirius-” James cuts himself off. “I just finally realized that the world doesn’t revolve around me and I’m not going to act like it does anymore.”

Hermione smiles at him in reassurance. She’s only known him for a few days but it’s clear that James Potter has grown up - from school-boy bully to responsible young man. 

_‘This is the man Lily will fall in love with.’_

“We’ve all done things we wish we could take back, James. That desire to change past behaviors is what makes us better. Once Lily sees how you’ve changed, I’m sure she’ll feel differently.” 

He frowns slightly at her, “I don’t-” Movement behind him catches her eye.

She doesn’t hear the rest of James’ statement, too busy staring in horror at the three boys who’ve approached their table. Or rather, staring at the one in the middle of the pack, the one with pale skin and greasy hair hanging down his face. The other two - one with dark and one with light hair - are vague outlines in her peripheral vision that she scarcely notices. They stop a few feet away from the table.

Severus Snape. 

Albus Dumbledore’s _murderer._ Another friend turned traitor. Although it’s inconclusive just how much of a _friend_ this rotten man was.

She’d been purposely avoiding any interactions with him, steering away from him in their shared classes and not even glancing at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. That could only last her so long though. 

“Have your little friends finally tired of your nonsense, Potter? Got yourself a new toy to play with?” Snape sneers down at her briefly before turning back towards James. She’s _aching_ to punch him right in his hooked nose, to make him drop to the ground the way he callously took Dumbledore down. She pushes her chair back and stands up at the same time as James, who quickly gets between her and the other boys.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” She shivers a little at the intense anger in James’ voice. “You three better get out of here before you regret it.” He hasn’t whipped it out yet, but James’ hand is flexing in the air near his wand. 

One of the other Slytherins looks around James to leer at her. “You’re the new Gryffindor. How about you come to the dungeons with us and see what a real man has to offer?”

“Mulciber, you’ve always had a taste for lioness.” The third Slytherin boy laughs, “But this one? Really?”

_‘Vile and disgusting beings!’_ She feels, rather than sees, the rage building up in James. His wand now sitting comfortably in his hand, the strength in his magic is galvanizing, feeding into her own highly charged power. 

This isn’t going to end well.

“The last one was tame. But you’ve got a bit of fire in you, don’t you?” Mulciber says lecherously. “I’ll have fun with you.”

“I’d die before I’d touch you, you filthy cretin,” she spits out, the disgust clear in her voice.

Hate fills Mulciber’s eyes and twists his expression, turning his already cruel-looking face into something truly grotesque and evil. She can guess what is about to come out of his mouth as he lifts his wand-

“CRUC-”

“Expelliarmus!” Twin jets of light burst out of her and James’ wands towards Mulciber, weaving together in transit. A loud snap fills the air followed by several groans of pain. She and James are pushed back themselves by the force of their spells, yet manage to stay on their feet. Hermione has never performed the disarming spell with so much power before and is struck a bit dumb by the sight in front of her.

All three of the Slytherins are laying flat on their backs, moans pouring out of them and books scattered around. Nothing looks so serious about their condition but Mulciber is reaching for several pieces of wood strewn on the ground, disbelief painting his features.

_‘We_ broke _his wand and knocked them all off their feet.’_

“Let’s get out of here, Hermione!” James grabs her hand and pulls her away from the scene. He drapes something over her the second they are out of sight of the others. They sprint towards the exit and narrowly avoid running into Madam Pince who is also rushing, albeit in the opposite direction, to the spot they just vacated. 

She and James continue running until they reach the entrance of their Common Room. He glances around before quickly whipping off the - she belatedly realizes - Invisibility Cloak, the only thing that could’ve saved them from the librarian’s wrath, and they duck into the entryway. 

Hermione is still trying to catch her breath when James leads her to the couches. The room isn’t terribly crowded at the moment, just a handful of older students scattered about. No one pays attention to the two of them. 

She’s grateful for that because once again she has something private she needs to discuss with James Potter.

“What was that?” She whisper-yells at him.

“I’m sorry for dragging you along like that. But those three are deep into the Dark Arts, mini Death-Eaters! I wasn’t sure what else they would try to do and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not upset that you pulled us out of there. It only made sense to leave before it could get even worse. But,” she stalls, “didn’t you notice anything about the spell we used on Mulciber?”

“Blimey, Hermione!” He screeches into the otherwise quiet room, the other occupants glance at them so he softens his voice. “How could I not? Sirius is right, you’re bloody fierce! I’ve never seen anyone perform it with that much of a punch-”

_‘There’s no way I did that on my own. Something odd has happened. It was like our magic_ merged _and the force was so great it brought them all down.’_

But he thinks that she did it alone. He hasn’t realized that it was both of them working in tandem.

He’s still talking. “-You’ve got to show me what else you can do. No offense but our DADA professors have all been underwhelming. Professor Cole this year is alright but no one ever lasts longer than that. And these are the things we need to be learning. Especially now.”

“S-sure. Maybe we can try out some defensive spells here and there? It’ll be good practice,” she says absent-mindedly, still trying to work out if something strange has happened or not. And if so, whether or not she should address it with him. 

James pats her leg before standing up and stretching. Her attention is diverted by the sliver of skin on his abdomen now visible. She sighs softly when it disappears back under his shirt and her eyes widen as they fly back to his face guiltily.

_‘Teenage hormones are ridiculous. You should be above this, Hermione.’_

He hasn’t noticed. “I’ll head up to the dorms, I want to give Remus a warning before his patrol tonight to look out for any lurking, revenge-seeking Slytherins. Are you alright, Hermione?”

“Yes, thank you. Good night, James.”

Smiling happily, he takes a few steps away from her and goes around the couch. He leans over the back of it to whisper in her ear, “You’re just as tough as the other you, as Dream Hermione.” Chuckling softly under his breath at her slight shudder, he says, “I like it. Good night, Hermione.” 

Once he’s gone, retreating to his room for the night, she also heads to her own dorm. There’s no need to feign exhaustion to avoid conversation when she arrives because none of her roommates have retired there yet - spending their time elsewhere until probably right before curfew - but she lies down in her bed anyway, mentally overwhelmed and overstimulated by the night’s events. 

She draws her curtain closed and lays there in darkness, eyes unseeing. Her thoughts are rushing too fast to really get a handle on any one of them. Sleep is far off from her.

Hours pass - Mary, Marlene, and Lily all returning themselves and falling asleep - before she’s able to concentrate and think harder, really focus on what James said before leaving her. 

_"The other you, Dream Hermione”._ The other you _._

The _other_ you. 

The _other_ Hermione. 

She gasps audibly in the silence of her shared dorm room and sits straight up in her bed. Fortunately, her noise doesn’t wake her sleeping roommates, she’s not sure how she would explain it to them, so focused on her revelation.

Dumbledore had told her that _two_ Hermione Grangers were listed on the school’s list of magical children. One currently enrolled but both born in 1979.

_‘How can another Hermione be listed if it’s only 1977? How can she -_ I _\- be listed before birth?”_


End file.
